


Animal

by cvblegirl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Bloodplay, Body Worship, Bondage, Bottom Will Graham, Breathplay, Cannibalism, Dark, Forced Cannibalism, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Sexual Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Hannibal, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Sensory Deprivation, Short Chapters, Stockholm Syndrome, Violence, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2018-10-14 16:12:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cvblegirl/pseuds/cvblegirl
Summary: Will Graham has been abducted. He doesn't know where he is. He doesn't know who took him, or if he will survive. Blindfolded and bound, Will is left at the mercy of a man with a taste for cruelty.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A little side-project I've always wanted to write. This is set in an alternate universe, where Will is 18 and Hannibal is in his mid-30s. Title taken from the song _Animal_ covered by Chase Holfelder.

Will tries to take a deep, calming breath. It’s difficult. His heart is hammering away, deafening his ears, his brain shoots from one thought to another. What do they want from him? Where is he? Are they going to kill him? 

The thought of dying scares him more than he’d thought it would. He'd often fantasized about his death, months ago, when he still lived with his father. He'd spent nights awake, pocket knife held tightly in his hand, eyes fixated on his bruised wrists. He never did anything with it. He'd always been a coward; a frightened, pathetic little boy. 

His stomach heaves and he retches, but nothing comes out. His stomach has been empty for god knows how long now. He’s hungry, his stomach grumbles often enough to remind him, to tease him. 

He tests the rope binding his hands together for what feels like the hundredth time, trying the ones at his ankles as an afterthought. It’s pointless. He’s scratched his skin raw, the dull ache more annoying than painful now.  

Will holds his breath when he hears the creak of a door opening. For all of the time he’s been trapped in this place, he has not heard a sound. At the sound of light foot steps, the air in his lungs rushes out. It’s about to happen. They are coming for him. 

The muscles under his flesh begin to tremble, an odd spasm crawls through his abdomen down to his legs. His head spins wildly as a sour substance fills his mouth. He wants to vomit again.   


He can’t help the yelp that leaves his mouth when cold hands press against his face. The hands are big, prodding, and rough as they turn his head from one way to the other. The man, Will assumes, keeps silent as his hands move lower, curving around Will’s neck. 

Will’s heart feels like it might jump out of his ribcage when the man tightens his hold on his neck, applying enough pressure for Will to gasp. His arms and legs struggle against the ropes, every nerve screaming that he defend himself.  

“Please…no.” Will wheezes out, knowing these could very well be his last words. The darkness under the blindfold grows around him, filling his lungs, consuming his flesh. Before the man can completely squeeze the life out of him, he stops. The hands disappear for a moment. 

Will quickly gulps down bouts of fresh air, mind a frenzy. When fingers brush against the curve of his neck, Will flinches away from the touch, a whimper all he can manage. 

Tears spring from his eyes, and he curls into himself as best he can. Too afraid to care about anything else. He doesn’t notice when the man leaves. Silence and darkness remain as his only companions. 

Will cries himself to sleep, feeling as small and defenseless as ever.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Will awakens to the smell of food. His mouth waters as a loud grumble echoes inside his empty stomach. He wriggles on the floor, trying, and failing, to sit up. His mind doesn’t even question where the smell is coming from. He's starving, desperate for anything to fill his stomach.  

Will jumps when large hands guide him up into a sitting position. The hands linger on his shoulders, and Will catches a whiff of the man’s cologne. It strikes a chord somewhere deep inside him. It was oddly familiar, like the smell of the earth after a thunderstorm, but hunger cuts any tether he could have formed to that peculiar scent.   

Will nearly moans when the moist tip of _something_ touches his lips. He inhales slowly, and bites into it without hesitation, savoring the delicious explosion of flavor. He does moan at the first bite, too out of it to care. 

The meat is juicy and seasoned to perfection, with a flavor that is new to him.

_ It could be poisoned.    
_

Will stops mid-chew, debating on whether he should spit out what’s in his mouth. It’s so good though, and he’s so hungry. He can’t stop now. 

He swallows, licking his lips. He greedily leans out for another bite, tongue accidentally brushing against his captor's hand. Will immediately pulls back, a frown tugging at his lips. He’s sure he hears the man chuckle. 

“This isn’t funny.” Will grumbles, jaw tightening. That the man could find genuine amusement in Will's ordeal spoke volumes. A sadistic streak lessened his chances of survival.

Regret settles onto his chest when something hard and eerily cold presses against his cheek. It glides down his jaw, sharp tip tracing over his lips and chin. 

Will wants to scream, but is much too frightened to. His body unintentionally jerks away, the back of his head slamming against the hard wall. His teeth chatter and a groan fills the quiet room.

Blood trickles down his neck, warm and tingling.  

There's an annoyed click of a tongue, a sigh, and the man leaves. 

Will's head is spinning, and he has to fight with everything he's got not to throw up what little food he has in him. He doesn't want to die. 

If he knew...if only he knew what the man wanted from him...he would do it. To ensure he survived long enough for someone, anyone, to realize he's missing and report it to the police, Will would do anything. Surely, someone would notice his repeated absences at school, the loud, hungry barking of his dog. Someone. If not his classmates, then perhaps...yes!

_Of course_.  

Will's heart picks up in excitement, in a sudden rush of relief. 

Surely, if everyone else fails to notice, or they simply do not care enough to notice, Dr. Lecter will. Dr. Lecter will find it odd, and perhaps even worry, when Will doesn't show up for their weekly session. The man will inform the authorities, which will lead them to his empty apartment, his abandoned dog, his piled up mail.  

Yes, Will just needs to survive a few more days. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a break from everything but I think I might be back, so sorry for the delay but thank you all for the support.

“Will.”  

The voice makes him jump, nails dig into his hand. He looks up, panic rising like bile in his throat. There’s blood on his clothes, his hands, his hair. There’s blood everywhere.

Will gasps when a hand touches his shoulder. He blinks. The blood is gone. 

“Will.” Dr. Lecter’s voice is as calm as ever, it’s grounding. Will swallows what feels like gravel in his throat.

“I’m sorry...what was the question again?” Will can’t look at him, not when he knows his face is a mess of sleep deprivation and anxiety. 

“Did you experience any nightmares this week?” The doctor asks, and it must have been the third time he’s asked. His voice isn’t annoyed, but Will can sense he doesn’t want to repeat himself again. 

Will wants to laugh at the question. It’s always the same question, and he always gives the same answer. 

“Yes.” 

“Would you like to talk about them?”

Will sees the body of a girl hanging upside down, her arms ripped off at the shoulder. Her cold, dead eyes peering right into his. He sees a dark figure behind her, teeth glinting in the darkness. He wants to run away, can feel his legs shake, but her eyes pin him to his spot. The dark figure moves in the shadows, getting closer and closer and closer until…

“No.” 

…

 

Will jerks awake, alarmed when he hears the splashing of water, feels it soak him to his bones. He can’t see anything and his hands are still tied behind his back. 

Oh  _ God _ . 

He’s going to drown.   

Panic catches his breath. He gasps and wails. 

“Shh shh.” Hands are on him, keeping him still. He breathes deeply, calming his nerves as best he can. After a moment, the hands begin to move. They roam his chest, his shoulders, his arms, but don’t dip lower than that. They go to his hair next, massaging his scalp. He can smell shampoo.

He is being washed.

Will keeps still, mind reeling. Why was he doing this? 

Will bites his lip when the man’s hands finally dip into his lower half, he shivers in disgust as the man’s hand glides over his limp dick, and jumps when fingers slide down his crack. The hand is replaced with a sponge and Will can only squirm. He wants to cry out of sheer desperation. 

Once the man is done, the water is drained, and Will feels a towel wrap around his shoulder, another in his hair. 

“Why are you doing this?” Tears are gathering behind his eyes. 

The man stops drying his hair, his large hand coming to rest on the side of Will’s face. A thumb brushes over his lips, parts them. 

Will doesn’t get an answer.


	4. Chapter 4

The silence is going to kill him.

Will doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s heard anything other than his disjointed thoughts. The man has not said one word to him. No threats, no intimidation, nothing. It is unnerving not knowing what the man wants from him. He is fed and cleaned, but the process is almost mechanical, his hands don’t stray further than they need to. His touch, although unwelcome and intrusive, is becoming  _ familiar. _

A shiver slides down Will’s back when the man’s hands guide him out of the bath. The air is frigid on his damp skin, causing it to prickle.

“Please let me go.” Will says, voice thick and rough from disuse. The man ignores him, continuing his task of drying him off. 

“I...I won’t say anything, please. I-I haven’t seen your face. I don’t know who you are. Please...I won’t say anything.” By the end of his rant, Will is panting. His chest rises and falls as he tries to gulp down what little air he can. His head spins, and the only thing keeping him upright is a pair of strong arms. 

When it happens, Will is in too much distress to react. Warm, firm lips press into his, the arms around him pull him closer.

Will stands frozen as the man’s mouth moves softly over him. It is the sensation of a slick, wet tongue running across his bottom lip that finally gets him to react. Will tries to pull back, but the grip around him is too strong. 

Will grunts and his lips part just a fraction, just enough to allow a foreign tongue to slip inside his mouth. It glides across his teeth, curls around his tongue. 

Will has never been kissed. Not like this, not at all.

A warm, strange fluttering grows in his stomach as the mouth moves unrelentingly against his. The hands pressed against his back begin to move up and down, slowly, gently. Will can’t help the shudder that runs down his spine, or how his lips move just enough to allow the man to go deeper. 

It’s intoxicating, confusing, and frightening. 

 

…

 

“Would you like to talk about your father?” Dr. Lecter’s voice draws Will’s attention away from the doctor’s sketches. They are beautiful, the attention to detail something Will has only ever seen in art books. He fingers the edge of the parchment, eyes glancing toward the older man sitting on the other side of the room. 

“Not really.” Will replies. He’s been told on multiple occasions now that he was to be honest at all times, or at least the majority of the time. Will has no energy to talk about his father, doesn't want to reopen such fresh wounds.

“We will have to talk about him eventually. It is necessary for you to heal, Will.” 

“I know.” Will bristles slightly, eyes narrowing as he flips to another sketch. His irritation fades as he takes in the new drawing. It’s of a man, a man who is completely naked. He is laid bare and open, beautiful and erotic. Will’s cheeks color and heat. He closes the sketchbook and clears his throat, aware that he is still being watched. 

“He...my father...wasn’t always bad.” Will winces at how lame that must sound, his face burns even more as he moves to sit down. 

“When I was a kid he would take me fishing, we would spend hours out on the lake. It was nice, really peaceful. Those…” Will pauses, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“Those were good days.”     


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay again! I swear this is going somewhere...please enjoy.

Will is sure he will not remember how to open his eyes. His eyelids are a heavy, constant presence. They create an overbearing darkness, a burst of random colors and grotesque shapes that taunt and comfort him. He sees a woman that he is sure is his mother, her face blurred and misshapen, can practically hear her warm voice, her screams, her fear.  

He always shakes these images away, tries to keep himself busy in whatever menial way he can. He’s become familiar with the room he is being kept in; his cage. It is a simple, four-walled square. One door, no windows. He can even navigate through it now that the binds over his ankles and hands are gone. He’s stopped trying to remove the blindfold over his eyes days ago. His clumsy fingers have no effect on the small lock that holds the blindfold in place.

Will can even distinguish the soft click of the door unlocking. Of footsteps.

Will sits motionless as the man approaches, his familiar scent washing over his body. His nose twitches.

“You should just kill me.” Will says. The man’s hand brushes across his cheek, fingers dip into his curls, pull on the soft hair.

“Please, just kill me.” Will’s voice is only a whisper. He doesn’t cry, isn’t really begging either. He is just so tired.

“No.” The firm voice startles Will. Jars his mind and body as the man’s lips descend on his mouth. Teeth dig into his flesh, moist, hot breath sending chills down his spine.

Will screams into the kiss.  

...

 

Will fidgets more than usual under Dr. Lecter’s dark, piercing eyes. He lowers his gaze to the glass of whiskey in between his hands, brows furrowing.

He doesn’t really like the taste of it. It burns his throat and numbs his tongue, but his heart was slowing and his mind was no longer flicking from one useless thought to another.

Will takes another sip, a long one, and once again tries to hold Dr. Lecter’s gaze. The man is smiling, Will smiles back, cheeks flushing.

“Better?”

“Sort of.” Will says, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. The most experience he’d had with alcohol was a beer he’d snuck past his dad when he was 15. He’d hated the taste and wondered why people drank for fun. Now, with his mind humming pleasantly and nerves subdued, he could understand the appeal.

“Perhaps, we could continue our conversation now, Will.” Dr. Lecter’s voice swims through Will’s head.

“Right, yes. You asked me about _him_ again.” Will downs the rest of his drink. “He hated me. He never said so, but I could feel it. Always feel. Like a tick stuck to the back of my neck.”

Will shifts, blinking slowly as Dr. Lecter moves beside him, bottle of whiskey in his hand. The man takes the glass from him and refills it. Will can’t help but chuckle after he takes another sip.

“Won’t you get in trouble for giving me alcohol?” Will grins up at the man, realizing just how close they are to each other.

“My methods may be unorthodox at times, but they work more often than not.” He says, placing the bottle to the side.

“Please continue, Will.”

Will tries to concentrate on what he wants to say next, tries to ignore the warm, heavy presence sitting mere inches from him. He takes a long, calming breath and catches a whiff of the doctor’s cologne. It’s rich and inviting, and definitely expensive.

“I hated him too...but I hated my mother more for leaving me with him. Both of them, I hate both of them.” Will’s hands clench around the glass, the tips of his fingers turning a bright pink. He turned his narrowed eyes toward the doctor.

“You allowed that hate to fester inside you, Will. You let it corrode your heart and mind, and kept it suppressed until you could no longer hide it.” Dr. Lecter’s eyes pin him down, keep him from moving as the glass is removed from his hands.

“When did your anger come to the surface? When did you finally show it, Will?” Dr. Lecter was dangerously close now, his warm breath caressing Will’s cheeks. Will feels his skin prickle and heat, gasps lightly when the older man’s hand comes to rest on the side of his face.

“Tell me.”

Will swallows around the lump in his throat. His head is spinning violently now, eyes clouding over.

“That night...the night I killed him.” His voice cracks pathetically. The hand on his face soothes his hair back, comforting, arousing. A deep voice whispers gently into his ear, but the words make no sense to him. His mind is slipping into darkness, he’s falling into it.

It consumes him. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is even shorter but it's the one chapter I've been looking forward to the most, i'm still debating with myself on how depraved i'm willing to go....
> 
> thank you again for all of the feedback! i'm honestly surprised at how well everyone is liking this fic <3

There was no stopping it. It was as inevitable as the air that fills his lungs, refusing to let him die.

Will tries to push the man away, his thin arms having little effect on the strong presence pinning him in place. His legs fall uselessly apart, giving the man ample room to settle between them. Will whimpers as teeth bite at the sensitive flesh beneath his ear. 

Disgust and shame swarm inside of him.

The man’s mouth roams lower, licking and biting and teasing. His body reacts to the touch, and Will wants to scream again. He shouldn’t feel anything other than hate and anger, and yet…

As the man moves lower, mouth and fingers trailing his stomach and thighs, Will stops struggling. His fingers shake as he moves his hands toward the man, feels a chill run down his back when his fingers touch the man’s surprisingly soft hair. 

When the man’s mouth finally reaches his half-hard dick, Will’s fingers tighten around the hair. He gasps and cries and pleads. 

_ No. Please. Oh, god. Stop. Please stop. _

His legs shake and twitch, his chest heaves as his lungs constrict, hips undulating without his consent. His body is no longer under his control. His reactions are no longer under his control. Everything he is, everything he has, is no longer under his control. 

The mouth is hot, tongue wet. A strong, steady hand guides him toward a climax he does not want.

“I hate you.” Will whispers after it’s over, tongue heavy and mind dazed.

He doesn’t expect a reply, simply curls into himself when the man stands and leaves him alone in the bed. He wants to shut down his mind and forget. He craves the loneliness, the infinite darkness, the misshapen bodies that haunt his dreams. 

Will lays still, doesn’t expect a reply. He doesn’t. 

“Frankly, my dear Will, I’d be worried if you didn’t hold such contempt for me.” The man’s crisp, accented voice fills the darkness. 

Will’s heart drops, and he can’t move. 

“Believe me when I say that this was not how I planned things to go.” There’s a pause, and Will can’t stop his mind from spinning, feels as if he is going to fall off the face of the earth. 

“I don’t expect you to understand it now, but soon.” A cold hand slides down his cheek. “I suppose there’s no need for this thing anymore.” 

There’s rustling and fingers tinker with the blindfold lock. 

Will remains still as the blindfold is taken off, he struggles to open his eyes. 

When his eyes adjust and he sees for the first time in however long he’s been held captive, his world shatters. 

Any doubt that he had left vanishes. 

Dr. Lecter would not come to his rescue. 

All Will had left was the uncertainty of his future and the rotting hate for the man before him.

Dr. Lecter smiles down at him, and at that moment Will wanted nothing more than to drive a knife right through the man’s throat. 


End file.
